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Monday, March 13, 2017

Kristen Frasch, editor of Human Resource Executive
magazine, was at a national conference in Las Vegas when her husband's lifeless
body was discovered at home. Because she had used up all the time she was
entitled to under the Family and Medical Leave Act caring for her father during
his hospice, Kristen was left with her allotted three days of bereavement leave
before returning to the demands of her job.

"I had to return to my hotel room, pack my bags, try
and sleep, then grab a taxi to the airport the following morning, go through
security and sit through almost six hours of flight time before touching down
and driving to meet my sons, who were waiting to escort me to the body of the
man I would love forever. What’s followed since has been mind-numbing, energy-depleting,
sleep-depriving, appetite-suppressing, chest-quaking and nauseating, not to
mention sometimes scary."

Kristen interviewed me last fall for an article in this
month's issue of Human Resource Executive. Grief in the workplace remains an uncharted
frontier for many employers. I'm honored to have contributed to such an
important topic and be cited as the source (see Suggestions for
Managers/Co-Workers in the tan box).

A bereaved employee returning to work after loss is an
elephant in the room. Creativity and productivity take a hit. Nobody knows what
to say, and the employee becomes a person most people tiptoe around.

"In all honesty, many moments were spent staring at
a computer screen, remembering what needed doing but asking many more questions
about processes and decisions than I had before. Other moments were spent on
pure adrenaline, fulfilling all my editorial responsibilities with a
determination and directness that probably said to staff and co-workers, “This
woman is so strong!” when that was the last thing I was feeling."

Kristen's story opens the dialogue on the uncharted
waters of grief in the workplace, and offers ways to support bereaved employees
while keeping an eye on office productivity and the well-being of everyone.

Click here to read the full article this month's issue of Human Resource Executive magazine.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

On most mornings for the past 11 years, I've walked with my neighbor Evelyn in a cemetery—land designated as a burial ground for the dead. Some find that morbid or creepy, but I don't. I find it peaceful and serene; a place that affords excellent walking paths. The foliage changes every three months, and over the years we've gained friends along the way.

One of those friends was a lady named Karen. Most mornings Karen and her husband John walked their little dog Teddy in the cemetery. It was wonderful exercise for Teddy, and afforded Karen and John a tranquil time between the two of them in his final days before he died in 2009, the same year we lost our daughter Aly. Two years prior, in 2007, my neighbor Evelyn lost her nephew.

After John died, it became just Karen and Teddy walking in the cemetery. We didn’t see her every morning, but when we did the three of us stood and chatted not about our losses but about life.

Oh, sometimes we chatted about our losses but that's the thing about grief. It’s part of life.

A few months ago Karen died. While on our morning walk earlier this week, Evelyn and I stopped where Karen is laid to rest next to John. We stood there staring at her name etched on the granite and it hit us hard that we'll never again run into Karen on our morning walks. We miss Karen's easy smile and twinkling blue eyes, and her little dog Teddy too, but this is the cycle of life.

Which brings me to my question. If death, loss and grief have been around since the beginning of time, when did it become a topic so full of taboo? Public displays of mourning were once considered dutiful, respectful and a sign of good character.

Now it’s considered self-indulgent and impolite, for we must spare others our suffering.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Returned home yesterday afternoon after a wonderful trip! Costa Rica is an absolutely gorgeous country, and such a lovely culture. I hadn't expected the poor internet in the places we stayed, but it offered a respite that allowed me to unabashedly enjoy all the country had to offer and indulge in my inner NatGeo photography wannabe (I took over 3,000 photos!).

My heart is full of gratitude for being able to take Project Kindness to people in need. In exchange we returned home with something unexpected, and far more valuable than the donations we distributed . . . we came home with a lesson about life itself. The Costa Ricans have a saying — pura vida — that literally means "pure life." Its deeper meaning, simply put, is that no matter what your current situation is, life for someone else is much less fortunate. No matter how little or how much you have in life, we are all here together, and to enjoy what you have to the fullest because life is short.

In a time when our own country is facing a cultural storm with no sun in sight, we have a choice about whether to allow those issues to engulf our blessings and cast them into the shadows, or to find peace with our differences. Many Costa Rican conversations end with "pura vida" - enjoy life. Lacking in material riches doesn't dampen a country full of smiles and open hearts.

I went on vacation with two suitcases full of donations to a country in need, and came home with a life lesson I'll never forget.

About Me

Lynda Cheldelin Fell is an international bestselling author
of over 25 books including the award-winning anthology series Grief Diaries and Real
Life Diaries. Lynda has interviewed societal newsmakers on finding
healing and hope including Martin Luther King's daughter, and is now considered
a pioneer in the field of inspirational hope in the aftermath of loss. Lynda is
a healing educator, CEO of AlyBlue Media and co-founder of the International
Grief Institute. She produces groundbreaking projects dedicated to raising
awareness and compassion, and inspire hope. She earned four literary awards in
2016, and has been nominated for four 2017 national advocacy awards for her
work. Learn more at www.LyndaFell.com.